


Everyday without you (hurts just a little bit more)

by jenny_wren



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan and always an augmented girl Jim</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday without you (hurts just a little bit more)

**Author's Note:**

> STID Kink meme fill: Fem!Kirk was one of the original augmented super-humans from Khan's crew, and also his wife/mate/what-have-you.
> 
> Don't care how she became present!Kirk. What I really want is an emotional, heartbreaking reunion between two people who weren't really sure if they'd ever see each other again and are just desperate to be together.
> 
> Bonus for reactions from Kirk's crew (particularly Spock, Uhura, and McCoy), but not required.

Even stuck in a basement lab on the far side of Jupiter, Khan hears about Captain Jamie T Kirk, the savior of Earth. And because the Captain is a young beautiful female, there are also pictures.

The first time he sees a picture he freezes in place because it is Jane, Jane to the life, and although Khan knows it is a trick of genetics for one brief second it is as if Jane is alive and not crumbled to dust long ago. His heart breaks all over again.

He learns all that he can of Jamie T Kirk and is certain she must be a descendant, which means his Jane and little Alexander survived the upheaval and lived on. It is cold comfort, but it is a comfort. His nightmares of the Insurrectionists finding Jane and their son fade and he no longer spends his days imagining the tortures they would have inflicted if they had caught his beloved family.

He also ‘accidentally’ breaks four arms, two legs, and five jaws because he does not appreciate the other men’s lewd commentary on the attractiveness of his descendant and how they would like express their appreciation. 

In the old days he would have taken tongues for such an offense – but it’s hard to come up with convincing story for accidentally cutting off someone’s tongue. Though if Jane had been there to scold him for being an over-protective barbarian and remind him she was perfectly capable of removing tongues if she wanted them gone, he would have come up with something. 

(He misses Jane)

He cannot be certain from the stories that his descendant’s path is a smooth one. There are too many rumors, lies, and innuendos circling her. So when he breaks away from Marcus, he decides to check up on his descendent before embarking on his campaign of revenge and make sure she doesn’t need a covert assassination or two to make her life easier.

He’ll be a little disappointed if she does, his and Jane’s children should be capable of organizing an assassination off their own bat, but he must make allowances for this enfeebled century. 

(He misses Jane)

Starfleet is as pretty and shiny as he expected. He hangs around the campus bars, picking up gossip and choosing his tactics. He never intended to actually meet his descendant, but now he’s here he cannot walk away. He doesn’t care if it’s only a simulacrum of his Jane, he needs to see her just once.

Probably seeing her in the flesh will destroy the illusion once and for all. Nobody in this stiffly starched Starfleet is capable of moving like his prowling lioness. Nobody could have eyes as blue as hers, the geneticists who created them never could manage to repeat the effect of Jane’s blue eyes. And her smile, in the whole history of the world nobody will ever match her smile.

(He misses Jane)

So he hangs around the main quad waiting for the excited whispering grass fire, _here comes Captain Kirk_ , and then he stalks forward. Somebody from behind him shouts, “Captain Kirk,” and she turns.

Khan stares.

It is Jane. It cannot be, but it is Jane.

 

Jane is thoroughly tired of being civilized, she’d like to knock a few heads together, break few skulls. Bureaucracy is the devil. She’d like to set fire to their forms 11-b-what-the-fuck-ever and burn the place down around their ears.

Unfortunately she’s stuck in this nice civilized century, so she just keeps smiling and nodding. And if nobody seems to notice her smile is just a baring of teeth, well, it’s also an incredibly stupid century.

(She misses John)

She does love her crew though. Dear sweet Bones who tries so hard to be her protector without expecting a thing in return. Bones who’d be horrified if he knew the reason Jocelyn’s wearing her hair short these days is because Jane pinned her down, hacked off a clump, and told her she’d do worse if she ever said another harsh word to Bones. Showing rare good sense, Jocelyn’s kept her mouth shut around Bones ever since. Jane’s a bit disappointed, she was looking forward to worse. 

And Spock, who painfully reminds Jane of Alexander when he was a stubborn grieving twelve year old. Spock’s problems with the Vulcans are a lot harder to sort out, but Jane is determined. She co-opts the creepy old Vulcan who tried to mindmeld with her on Delta Vega – can we say hell no? thought we could – and the five most vehement racist, isolationist bastards end up being arrested for accepting bribes from the Romulans. 

Darling Uhura, with her don’t call me Nyota glare. Uhura doesn’t need help as such, but Jane teaches her a couple of nifty moves to disable an opponent in three seconds or less and gives her a divinely sharp stiletto blade, as slim and beautiful as Uhura herself, and makes it mandatory for away missions.

And Scotty, and Hiraku, and Chekov, and everyone down to little Amy, who maintains the army of roombas that keep the Enterprise clean and is terrified every day, only signing up for Starfleet to put her and brother through college, who stutters every time Jane smiles at her. All of them are hers to protect.

So she’ll put up with the bureaucracy and if every now and then she imagines what John would say about said bureaucracy, well nobody knows but her.

(She misses John)

When she turns and sees the stranger, she has one of those heart-stopping moments of, it’s _John_. Because every now and then when the angle of light is right, or someone stands just so, or tilts their head and she catches their profile, it’s John. Hands in the murky half-light of bars are a particular weakness. With the noise and dark making it hard to hear and see she can fool herself for long desperate seconds.

Even long muscular legs coupled with the right cant of hips can trick her longing eyes. And the only way she knows to exorcise the memories is fierce, grinding sex, against the wall, against the bathroom stall door, hell, she’ll kick their legs out and ride them down, fucking herself on them until orgasm punches them both out and burns up all the emptiness inside her.

(She misses John)

Sometimes she wishes Jamie Kirk had never woken her up in a fit of rebellion against the family secret, or that she had chosen to go back to sleep after she’d discovered three hundred years had gone by, her John had not returned, and so much time had passed that he never would.

But that would be weak. She’d known it was a despairing gamble when she’d chosen to leave her newly-adult son and freeze herself in the hope of John’s return. Alexander’s family had kept her safe and hidden away but even they could not return her John.

And now Jamie Kirk is happy and hidden away from the shadows that had stalked her family. Nobody would be looking for her as long as Jane plays her role. She’s on Deriben V, married now, with a little girl and hoping for a boy next time. Jane has pictures. 

She and Jamie don’t look much alike, but they both look enough like the famed George Kirk that nobody notices the switch because all people really see is his heroic figure behind them. Jamie dyes her hair now, black suits her, and her husband’s dark so the family is finally losing the blond, blue-eyed looks those long dead geneticists worked so hard to install in their tenth (J) batch of test subjects. Jane thinks it’s about time too.

No, she doesn’t want to sleep away what’s left of her life. She’s happy she can give peace to the last of her family. She’s not badly off, watching over Jamie and keeping her crew safe, fighting and fucking along the way.

It’s just sometimes, sometimes she _aches_.

The not-John is staring at her now, blue eyes wide and shocked. He looks so very like John, even as Jane walks closer the illusion doesn’t drop away. Instead Jane can see _recognition_ in his eyes.

 

The Jane simulacrum comes closer, she looks as stunned as John feels, and that’s not like his Jane at all, but it is Jane right down to the way her eyes narrow and focus. Their sharp intensity burns him, and that’s when he can see she _recognizes_ him. The only people who should recognize him are frozen in their cryotubes orbiting Jupiter.

“Jane?” he whispers.

“John,” she falters, and it’s not Jane’s voice, it’s high and scared and it scrapes John raw to hear it.

“Jane,” he begs, and his voice breaks because he’s so nearly sure.

“Oh God, John.” And she’s flinging herself at him. The heavy thump of her body against his is solid and real, his arms curl around her, and she’s there, she's really there.

 

It is John, it’sJohn, itsJohnitsjohnitsjohnitsjohn


End file.
